It took Mike exactly thirty-two minutes to get to Pearson & Hardman's building. "Took you long enough," Harvey frowned, dragging his associate inside the office. "I can't let Mr Erikson wait."

"It's nine in the morning on a Sunday," Mike pointed out. "It took me some time to get all the case files, and last time you complained because I forgot my tie so... woah!"

Mike dropped the stack of folders that he was carrying as Harvey dropped a white ball of fur into his hands.

"This is Lucille," Harvey said. "You're going to take care of her while I have breakfast with our client."

The kitten stared at Mike with her tiny little blue eyes.

Mike stared back at the kitten. "When you called to tell me you needed my help babysitting, I thought you meant a client," he told Harvey.

Harvey gave him a pitying look. "After what you did last time I can't trust you with a client," he replied. "I don't even trust you with my cat, but this is an emergency. If my office is destroyed when I come back, you're fired."

"Got it," Mike said. The kitten pawed at his tie, so he held her at arm's length. "Don't worry, she'll be just fine."

Harvey put his Serious Lawyer face on and glared, wiping the smile from Mike's face. "If anything happens to Lucille, your job's the last thing you should be worried about," he said.

Mike cradled Lucille closer and nodded wordlessly.

After Harvey had left, Mike put Lucille down on the carpeted floor. "We're on our own, then," he told her. He felt stupid for talking to a kitten, but the whole floor was deserted and it wasn't as if there wasn't anyone around to see him make a fool of himself. If Louis had been around to see him cat sit, he wouldn't be able to show his face at Pearson & Hardman ever again.

Mike loosened his tie, figuring that the kitten wouldn't stand on formalities, and sank on one of Harvey's armchairs. The kitten was grooming herself. "Maybe this won't be so bad," he muttered, half to the kitten and half to himself.

Lucille walked closer and nudged Mike's leg with her head. When Mike bent down to scratch her behind the ears, she sank her claws into his hand.

Mike uttered a string of profanities and yanked his hand away. The cut was small, but it stung a lot and was already bleeding. Band aids, Mike thought. What were the odds that Harvey would have some band aids in his office? Less than zero, he decided. Harvey seemed indestructible.

There was a first aid kit in the break room, thought, as per workplace safety regulations. Mike remembered when Rachel had shown it to him on his first day. He glared at the kitten and stood up to get it.

As soon as Mike opened the office's glass door, Lucille made a bid for freedom. "Nononono!" Mike yelled, hastily closing the door and scooping her up before she could get out of the office. She made a spirited attempt to claw at his arms some more, but the scratches were nothing compared to what might have happened if he told Harvey that his cat had ran away.

Maybe Donna had some band aids at her desk, Mike thought while Lucille pawed hopefully at the door. Mike pondered the risks of a sortie towards the risks of losing Harvey's cat, compounded with the risks of Donna finding out that he'd been searching in her desk drawers.

He sat back in the armchair.

"I wonder if my insurance covers kitten-related deaths," he told Lucille. She meowed in response.

The office was usually full of background noise: discreet water cooler talk, PAs typing at their desk, papers being shuffled, the occasional client throwing a tantrum. Now it was completely silent, which meant that Lucille's mewling was clearly audible in the silence.

"Could you maybe tone it down?" Mike begged after a couple of minutes of non-stop mewling. Lucille stared at him and did a very good impersonation of Harvey's bitchface. She didn't stop. "I get that you miss your owner," Mike said in what he hoped was a reasonable and kitten-friendly tone. "I can assure you, Harvey will be back very soon. Please, stop doing that."

She still didn't stop.

Then Mike remembered that this was Harvey's cat. Weren't animals supposed to take after their owners?

If you stop crying, I'll make you a deal," Mike said "Five bucks. In cat food. Please?"

Lucille stared at Mike. Her blue eyes were reproachful, as if she was outraged that he'd try to buy her love for Harvey with vile money.

It was a tactic that Mike had seen other lawyers try. Harvey had cautioned Mike against those people who acted all high and mighty in the hope of getting a better bargain, and told him that he didn't want a weakling who would cave in front of such a basic strategy.

But Harvey wasn't there, and Lucille was still crying. "Ten bucks!" Mike pleaded.

She shut up at twenty, though it was more likely that she stopped because she was tired rather than because of Mike's skills at handling difficult clients.

In the blissful silence that followed, Mike called Harvey.

"This has better be urgent," Harvey said when he picked up. "And Lucille has better be fine."

"She is," Mike said quickly. "I think."

"You think?" Harvey replied. "What happened?"

"Nothing! But I think she misses you. She keeps trying to get out of the office, and started crying when I didn't let her."

There was a pause. Mike could feel Harvey breathing on the other end. Probably thinking about the best ways to make Mike suffer for calling while he was with a client.

"She's probably hungry," Harvey said eventually.

"Great," Mike replied. "I wonder if the Thai place on the corner delivers on Sunday mornings..."

"No, she prefers Japanese," Harvey deadpanned. "Come on, she's a cat, she eats cat food. Look in the bag under my desk."

Mike got to his feet. There was, indeed, a black duffel bag tucked discreetly next to...

"A pink cat carrier?" Mike asked. "Seriously?"

"Just open the bag," Harvey said testily.

Mike allowed himself ten glorious seconds in which he imagined Harvey strolling around with Lucille in her pink cat carrier, then pulled at the bag's zipper.

Inside the bag there was an assortment of every pet toy known to man and cat, along with three different kinds of cat food. "I should have known that you're the kind of person who would spoil her rotten," he said, picking up one box of tiny cat biscuits and shaking it.

At that sound, Lucille came running and started trying to climb up Mike's legs to get at the food.

"What did you say?" Harvey asked.

Mike tucked his phone between ear and shoulder and tried to fend off Lucille while he poured some of the dry cat food into her food bowl. The bowl was pink with little bows and flowers on it. Mike imagined Harvey picking it out at a pet shop and snorted with suppressed laughter. "Nothing," he said. Lucille tried to bit his shoe. "Quiet, you."

"What?" Harvey said.

"Not you, her," Mike replied. "She's getting impatient for her food, I wonder who she got that from."

As soon as Mike set the bowl on the floor, Lucille almost jumped into it in her haste to eat. Mike brushed his hands on his trousers. The suit was going to be hell for his dry cleaner, it was covered with white cat hair, not to mention all the scratches on the cuffs.

"Are you insinuating that I'm not a patient person?" Harvey asked.

"No," Mike said, picking at some cat hair on his sleeve. "Insinuating means dropping subtle hints. I'm outright stating that you're the least patient person that I know, though it seems your cat is even worse than you."

Harvey snorted. "I've got to go," he said. "You two behave."

"Sure," Mike replied. When Harvey didn't immediately hang up he added, "Do you want me to put Lucille on the phone so you can talk to her?"

"Don't be stupid," Harvey replied. "By the way, cats don't cry." Then he hung up.

Mike crouched next to the kitten and scratched her ears. She purred happily.

"I think your owner likes you a lot," he told her. "Do you want to play with your squeaky mouse toy?"

Erikson was, bar none, the most annoying client Harvey ever had to deal with. By the time their food arrived, Harvey was almost ready to stab himself with a fork. And this was something, considering that Harvey had worked with Louis for years.

He regretted not letting Mike take care of this. It wasn't as if he could accidentally be rude to the client since Erikson had even less manners than Mike. He was the winner of some reality show, and his only claim to fame was that he'd been able to yell more loudly and be more obnoxious than all the other contestants.

The only plus side of having to deal with the man was that he didn't mind Harvey taking Mike's call. In return he himself texted while Harvey was talking, chewed with his mouth open and told a very inappropriate joke to the waitress. Harvey was sure that sooner or later the man was going to end up charged with harassment. He was in half a mind to let Mike defend him.

It took them two hours and a half and several more bad jokes before Erikson consented to take his (very showy and tasteless) gold fountain pen and scribble his signature on all the documents that Harvey had brought with him.

Harvey shook Erikson's hand and murmured a less than convincing "Nice talking to you, see you soon.". He rushed out of the restaurant and got into the car. It wasn't that he really believed that Mike would destroy his office, but better safe than sorry.

When he got to his office he found Mike sleeping on the couch, with Lucille sprawled on his chest. Harvey carefully scooped up the kitten and poked his associate in the ribs.

"I'm awake," Mike mumbled, flailing his arms and trying to sit up. "I'm awake! Harvey," he added rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand. "You're back already?"

"Impressive powers of deduction, Sherlock," Harvey said. He looked around, inspecting the room. "It seems I still have a cat and an office. More or less. How is it that you managed to take every single toy in the bag and spread it around the floor, anyway?"

"First off," Mike said, "your deduction isn't so much better than mine. And second," he added quickly, talking over Harvey, "me and Lucy wanted to count how many toys there were in the bag. Fourteen, Harvey? Really? You have some shopping issues."

Harvey pointedly ignored the dig. Shopping for his cat was perfectly acceptable, he felt. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Except that there was a lot of pink, and at the time he hadn't thought about it because Lucille was a female cat and it seemed appropriate, but he could see why Mike would find it funny.

"Lucy?" he said instead. "That's a silly nickname."

The cat herself was looking alternatively at the two of them. She nipped at Harvey's fingers affectionately.

"It's so much better than Lucille," Mike retorted. "Why did you even call her Lucille? It's such a terrible name."

Harvey scoffed. "She likes it. Don't you, Lucille? I'm sorry I left you alone with him," he told the kitten. "I'll make up for it."

"What about making it up to me?" Mike complained. "She almost clawed off my hand."

"I'm sure she was terrifying," Harvey replied with a grin. Lucille meowed.

Mike groaned. "I'm never, ever cat sitting for you again," he said.